


It happened quiet

by under_stars



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, Death, Depressing, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I’m so sorry, Sad, Self-Indulgent, grasping death, i hate myself for writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29831475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/under_stars/pseuds/under_stars
Summary: Are your dreams as dead as they seem?A brief exploration of a reversed development- George dies, Fred lives.
Relationships: Fred Weasley & George Weasley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	It happened quiet

**Author's Note:**

> The title and generally this small work was inspired by the song ‘It Happened Quiet’ by the artist ‘AURORA’.

Anger had come first. Undiluted, wrenching, blinding. A rage had surged through him once it had sunk in. That George was not there anymore.

He’d always been _there._

He had dashed- madly- towards Death Eaters, and, Fred knew, he’d killed. Not many. But he knew he’d killed. Maybe one. Maybe two. Or three. But he’d killed.

He’d wanted to kill. To see them all go, to crash them all with the power of his wand, of his curses, of his anger.

Death, death, death, he wanted to see it with his own eyes, he wanted Death to claim those who had kil...

...those who had hit him. _His_ brother.

_His_ George.

He did not quite know what happened. Who actually did it. Who fired the curse, or if it was an explosion, or a wound of some kind.

He didn’t care to ask his mother, after, when she was leaning over his brother’s body and caressing softly the ginger hair, her way of saying goodbye.

As if he had just been sleeping. A nap. George liked taking naps.

He was so quiet now. A different kind of quiet.

Fred had always talked for him, had always started the sentences. George had been naturally quieter, shyer, so Fred always, always spoke for him. It wasn’t that his twin never talked. He did, for hours. When they were alone, or when he was feeling comfortable in a group, he talked for hours.

A voice so much like his own. Yet not his.

A man so much like him. Yet not him- entirely.

_Now the only reminder of himself was himself._

The bloody fucking irony of things.

All Fred knew was it happened quiet. Through the crashing horrible noise and the chaos- the unbearable booming of untamable destruction- George had been hit and fallen to the ground- quietly. So quietly. He had not made a single sound.

If he and Percy hadn’t been joking, if they had not let their guard down, if they had actually been paying attention, they would have seen him, a body among others.

Perhaps they could have saved him. From the hit or from death. If they’d been careful and quick enough.

But they hadn’t noticed. Through the violent turmoil of a turning and exploding world, it happened quiet.

His brother had left quietly, eyes still open, still embracing the wide world with their glossy warmth. Had he even realised he was dying, when it happened, had he any time to react at all?

Had he _suffered_? Had he cried for him?

_Fred! Fred!_

No. No. He had been silent. His soul had flown and dissipated in a glimmering quietness- and nobody noticed.

Nobody had heard the silent cry. The silent goodbye.

Fred hadn’t noticed it. Though he’d felt it, in that moment, when his brother had drawn his final breath, he’d felt a hammer plunging down to his ribcage. Suffocating him for an instant, drowning him in a mocking pain, and then it had vanished as quickly as it had come.

As quickly as Death must have come.

He hadn’t known at that moment what this feeling meant. Soon enough he’d learned.

Now the hammer was rooted into his soul, had come to stay. An eternal punishment, a reminder of his foolishness.

Fred wished he’d died with him. With his brother, with his twin.

With Georgie.

Dear Georgie.

He was gone. A part of Fred, _his other half_ , was missing. It was gone, never to return.

He didn’t deserve it.

George didn’t deserve to...go. Fred didn’t deserve to live.

At least if he’d been the one to die, he would have left with a ruckus. He knew that some curse would probably find him while he was sneering or joking or celebrating.

He would have died laughing, Fred knew.

But George had gone so quietly. And after, his body, with no life, no breath, no laughter in it, had been so quiet.

Fred _hated_ the quiet. He always wanted noise, the good kind of noise, and laughter and music.

George had liked and wanted these things too. It was just that he didn’t mind silence.

They had had differences. Yet they had been two halves of the same whole- almost one.

They should have died together.

They had come to life together. Well, almost. He’d come first, then George had followed. What did it matter? They had been _together_ , even before life itself had begun.

They always had been together. They had always shared the same room. Always going through everything together- when they had first gone to Hogwarts, when each one had had their first kiss, their first love, their first dream, their first prank.

Everything.

And they’d always talked about it. They’d always known they wouldn’t part.

They should have been together in death. But Fred hadn’t been there. He hadn’t seen. He hadn’t _heard_.

For it had happened quiet.

A life. Two lives.

A dream. Two dreams.

They had flown up, never to return. In an instant.

Two souls had been taken. They used to be so full of energy and laughter and a true hope for the future.

_Are your dreams as_ _dead as they seem?_

Oh, but there were no dreams. Not anymore.

No laughter. Just silence.

“Freddie?”

He raised his head. His mother was gazing down at him, eyes glinting. She seemed so soft yet so strong. So strong.

He himself had started to shake, a response to his thoughts.

No more words were said. He flung himself into her waiting arms.

And he cried for a dream come undone.

For a war that stripped souls and souls from the face of the earth.

For the future.

_For George._

**Author's Note:**

> I could go on into a full length analysis about these characters in general and how one’s death would affect the other. In some respects, I think Fred would suffer more, if George died, because only then would he realise how much he relies on his “less dominant” twin.
> 
> What do you think? I would love to read your thoughts.


End file.
